Panem's First Winter Snowfall
by HybridsRose
Summary: It has been 60-70 years after the rebellion, and Rosena Snow, granddaughter of President Snow, has made it through the Hunger Games and is suffering in the post-rebellion dynamics for the capitol people. Story contains consistent theme of winter in it as well. Enjoy!


Panem's First Winter Snowfall

Icy winds roared through the air, rippling the leaves of nearby trees, and filling Rose's mouth with the bitter taste of oncoming death.

She was at the rooftop, the rooftop of the tributes training centre, except there was one twist – she _was_ the tribute. A year ago, she would've been in her bedroom, sitting on her luxuriously big bed, wielding a tv remote as she flicked through the personised channels, awaiting the start of the Hunger Games tomorrow with a feverish glee.

She was President Snow's granddaughter; President Snow was her grandfather – except she had always thought of him as Grandpa Snow, nothing more, nothing less. Both her parents had been nice to her, but always busy, busy; with one meeting after another, busy with maintaining their reputation of being the President's child and child-in-law, busy with life. Grandpa Snow meanwhile, would be there for Rose, he'd visit when she was at home alone, and fill her hours with stories about Panem in its younger years, about how the nation grew as a country under his guidance. He'd give her gifts, presents with a twinkle in his eye, and up to now, Rose had always thought his grandfather genuinely liked her – she was wrong.

He was only controlling her, just like he controlled everyone else, just like he controlled her parents, the districts, to him; she was just another piece to his chessboard, a delicately rich and beautiful piece, but piece nonetheless. He'd made sure her parents got an okay job, planned for them the day her mother was born – he didn't want her choosing her own, the risk of picking an unsatisfactionary occupation was too high, and it would mean disrespect in the eyes of the capitol, which might come to reflect badly on his authority, he'd made sure their job was fancy enough to gather respect, but plain and simple enough, so no one would ordinarily take notice of them without his announcement. He'd made sure they existed, were well fed for and paid for, but gave them no free will of their own. Looking back, Rose was half sure he invented half those meaningless meetings just so they'd be distracted, and he'd have more time to manipulate Rose too.

Looking after his own child and child in law, promoting them to higher positions in the capitol and giving them power would mean two things, one, they might start to get a mind of their own and go against him, or two, the capitol would like them so much, they might overtake Snow's own authority and popularity one day. It was too dangerous giving the second generation power, too dangerous to have his children out performing him, however the third generation was alright. Rose was even named after a delicate white flower her grandfather loved so much. Her full name was Rosena Snow. He called her Rose.

She used to be – no, _think_ she was powerful, she used to think all of Panem would one day be hers, the autumns, the springs, the summers and winters – winter was always her favourite season. She'd think she had it all, in her cusp of her hand, like the way a beautiful, but withered flower, would have control over whether or not to open or close its petals against the morning frost, in the end bringing its petals home with a gentle motion, and trapping out the specks of white. But Rose knew now it was different, she wasn't the flower, she was the frost. Under her grandfather's authority and leadership, under the name of 'President Snow's granddaughter' she had it all, but when the whole of Panem rebelled and the flower shut itself against the invading frost, she was merely an individual speck of white amongst thousands, pulled with the motion of rebellion into the midst of the 76th Capitol Games.

It was the last night before the Games would begin, and no matter how Rose struggled to come to terms with it, all her power lost in a single rebellion, forced to play her grandfather's own game, she _still_ couldn't.

Sleep wouldn't come easily to her, the tribute's beds were so uncomfortable to her, the mattress too hard, the room too small, the air too suffocating, and so she peeled the sticky sweat laden covers back from her body, fled onto the balcony, the rooftop, where she stayed all night, dreading the next day.

It was early winter in Panem, of course Panem had enough technology and workers to artificially change its seasons. Huge temperature pods buried in the streets could be reset and switched on to control the temperature, air signals could create currents strong enough to blow the undesirable rain or clouds away, and the streets of Panem could very well be basking in what appeared to be summer weather, while the actual weather was winter, but today, for this year, Panem allowed the winter to set in, it allowed the chilling cold season to grasp it's claws into the world, and Rose thought it looked more beautiful then. The streets glistened with the aftermath of rain, a crisp smell hung in the air. She drank it all in, remembering the first time she became aware of winter.

"_Come with me Rose, and I'll show you a special site," Grandpa Snow had said, his puffy lips moving in unison to that sentence, bringing a handkerchief to his face to presumably blow his nose. _

"_Mummy said I'm not to leave the house, Grandpa," Rose announced, but her seven year old self couldn't help bouncing in excitement, "She says to stay inside until my cold clears up." _

"_I'm sure Penelope won't mind a little outing now and then," Grandpa Snow announced without the slightest concern in his voice, he stopped a few feet shy of the double doors leading into the garden, and brought a crystal glass out of his jacket, rubbing it against his jacket to polish it. _

"_Are you taking a drink Grandpa?" _

_Rose remembered her Grandpa's eyes lazily flickering over to her, "No," he replied curtly, "Tell me, Rose, how is that _friend _of your parents? Still hanging around?" _

"_Oh yes." _

"_What are they talking about?" _

"_I haven't the faintest idea…" Rose trailed off, peering back through her memory. That friend of her parents was called Aaron Summers, he always had a large supply of sweets with him, and used to give Rose some whenever she tried following them into a room, then he'd tell her to find some other place to play. She remembered hushed conversations of 'traps', 'he's manipulating you two, can't you see it?' and 'we'll plot a conspiracy, I've the power' between him and her parents, but she had little idea what those big words meant at that time. Rose drew breath and said, "Plotting conspiracies. What's a conspiracy Grandpa?" _

_Grandpa Snow rose his eyebrow, and took another flask out of his jacket, it was golden orange. Rose thought Grandpa must've been really thirsty to carry drinks with him all the time. _

"_Something that has to be taken care of. Is he around today?" _

"_Oh yes, Aaron's always in the house most days," replied Rose. _

"_Then go find him, and give him this. Don't say it's from President Snow until he drinks it." _

_Rose found Aaron Summers in her parents study, looking at some holograms of the capitol, she offered him the drink, grinning for she knew he loved candy, and she assumed this drink would also be sweet. "Why thank you Rose," Aaron replied, smiling, "We both know I have a sweet tooth," _

_She nodded, remembering his candy, half hoping he'd give her some, but then battered that thought away with the anticipation of his drink. Would be like it? She could imagine reporting that to Grandpa Snow with a smile on her face, it would make her feel grown up. _

_Suddenly Aaron choked and doubled up, coughing. Then his head jerked back suddenly, and he stared with rasping breath and glassy eyes at Rose. Panic sent it's tendrils wrapping around her, making her feel numb, Rose had no idea what to do. This wasn't supposed to be how it turned out? Or was it? She swallowed her confusion, and said in a clear voice, remembering Grandpa's instructions, "It was from President Snow." _

_Aaron's eyes diluted one last time before he hissed with a dying breath, "Evil!" Then he collapsed to the ground and Rose went back to find her Grandpa. _

_When she told him of his reaction, he just smiled and said, "He'll be alright. The avoxes would dispose of his body soon enough. And if anyone asks, he choked on his own sweets. Now, come Rose." _

_Then Grandpa opened the double doors leading out to the garden with a flourish, and soon Aaron Summers left Rose's mind as she saw the gentle pale white flakes drifting down from the sky. She felt her heart skip beats, and her spirits rise in the sudden coldness, "What is _this, _Grandpa?" _

"_Snow," he replied with a smile, "Tis the holiday season." _

Rose jerked back from that memory, her hand smashing against the railing and sending rivulets of pain shooting through her body. But as she brought her hand to her mouth, she looked up and saw with surprise, the pale white flakes falling down on her, unmistakable against the darkened sky. Undoubtedly, she formed a thought in her mind –

_The first winter snowfall in Panem! _

[line break]

Ten. Nine. Eight.

She knew she had to end this now. The bloody Capitol Game had been going on for long enough – three weeks it was. Three weeks, she miraculously survived, opting to be in the career pack before running off with a large amount of supplies towards the end. One tribute, was all that was left. And they were fighting over water.

Aracula Summers tightened his grip on Rose's duffel bag, containing the remainder of her supplies which she had taken from the career pack. Inside was a medical kit, a bottle, iodine tablets, a knife plastered with dried juice of nightlock, the infamous berry responsible for the rebellion, which they'd planted almost _everywhere_ in the arena. Rose even had a few bunches still in that bag, from when she first saw them and _stupidly_ thought they were edible, before realizing the startling dark skin, and remembering that they contained toxic juices. In terms of food, there was only half a loaf of stale bread, and some dried fruit.

She gritted her teeth; pain grasped her right leg with alarming frequency, trapping each nerve and tendon in burning, shooting pain. Her hair was a rat's nest, matted lumps clinging to her back, and her whole body ached with exhaustion, her lungs screamed in agony as she was flung back from the bag, her opponent Aracula was spitting out blood as he frantically searched for food. Rose pushed herself up onto her good leg, the sun beat down ever harder on the arena, which was a huge dessert. Reddened dunes rose in all directions, Rose had forgotten which way she'd come, and she doubted she had the energy nor the resources to survive past this battle.

_Which is why I must win. _

With pain shooting through her body, she rammed into Aracula, exposing her chest to his, an explosion of pain and stars told her she'd broken at least one rib, and judging from the way Aracula was doubled up, clutching his torso, she estimated he had also broken something important.

The fight stopped for a little while, as both tributes regarded each other through bloodshot eyes. Rose frowned, her eyebrows slanting together, for what she saw was pure fire and madness in Aracula's eyes, a desire to kill, to break and maim, directly at her. Whereas all she felt was the uniform feeling of survival, wanting to kill another tribute for survival and wanting to kill simply for the joy of it were two entirely different things.

"You never got it, did you?" Aracula spat, his voice coming out all raspy and croaky.

"What? What didn't I get?" Rose stammered.

"Spoilt brat of President Snow, that's what you are."

Rose struggled to contort her face into a smile rather than a grimace, she knew enough about manipulation and bluffing herself, that a smile and false air of confidence gives the benefit of doubt, instead of defeat. Something throbbed at the back of her memory, demanding her attention.

But her leg was throbbing, her chest burned and her body just wanted it over. She swallowed and licked her lips, keeping the smile on her face as she said, "Why don't you tell me, instead of yelling at me? What _don't_ I get?"

A tangible pause tainted the air, then – "You KILLED my father you insolent wretch! What did he ever do to you? What did he ever do that deserved death?"

Now that Aracula started talking, it all poured out of him like floodwater kept up much too long in a dam, "I don't believe the capitol officials who said he choked on his own candy. I knew something was up from day one. My father always had a sweet tooth, but he was never stupid enough to choke on his own food. Mother didn't want to believe it either, but she had no choice. I had no choice. Under the corrupted capitol government, we had no free will. Ten years I've had to put up with this, Ten years. And you were seven when you let him die. Let whatever kill him die."

Suddenly the memories came rushing back.

_Rose found Aaron Summers in her parents study, looking at some holograms of the capitol, she offered him the drink, grinning for she knew he loved candy, and she assumed this drink would also be sweet. "Why thank you Rose," Aaron replied, smiling, "We both know I have a sweet tooth," _

_She nodded, remembering his candy, half hoping he'd give her some, but then battered that thought away with the anticipation of his drink. Would be like it? She could imagine reporting that to Grandpa Snow with a smile on her face, it would make her feel grown up. _

_Suddenly Aaron choked and doubled up, coughing. Then his head jerked back suddenly, and he stared with rasping breath and glassy eyes at Rose. Panic sent it's tendrils wrapping around her, making her feel numb, Rose had no idea what to do. This wasn't supposed to be how it turned out? Or was it? She swallowed her confusion, and said in a clear voice, remembering Grandpa's instructions, "It was from President Snow." _

Oh, so she did kill him. She killed him alright, but it was from Snow's orders. Her once lovable grandfather made her kill someone. But it was also him that taught her all these manipulation techniques that enabled her to survive that far into the games, the false smile and bluffing a few minutes ago? Him.

She had killed before, and she would do it again, she had to win. She just had to. She was Rosena _Snow_, President Snow's granddaughter, and she _couldn't_ lose – not at this game. But instead of last time, this time she could do it with confidence, with purpose.

This time she knew what she was doing.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that? I really am, it's just that…" as Rose was talking, she grabbed the duffel bag, and placed her hands within. Rummaging for the solid cylindrical shape of her water bottle, feeling Aracula's gaze on her.

She concentrated on the pain in her legs and chest, concentrated on the broken ribs and broken bone, felt the pain rocket up her spine and engulf her body in agony. Tears came out easily.

Rose then put on an apologetic look, she imagined herself back at her home, imagined breaking something of Grandpa Snow's, inserted the guilt she would feel then into her face at current, when she was ready, she took a deep breath and focused on keeping that façade up, as she looked at Aracula and felt his eyes widen in shock at her transformation.

"I'm really sorry that I did it, Aracula Summers. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to…I was such a spoilt brat. I…"

Her fingers fumbled, she managed to find the bottle and the berries. Wearily she uncapped it, mushed up the nightlock in her palm, and felt the soft insides trickle out between her fingers. She dabbed a drop in the water, and squeezed the cap back on.

"There's something I have to tell you, before I…" she focused on her façade a bit more, and squeezed out a few more tears, "Before I die. It's something I've never told anybody…I couldn't, but it was to do with his death…I couldn't help him because…"

Using her left hand, she brought out the bottle, and offered it to Aracula, keeping her gaze steady. Then she brought out the knife with her right hand, ready to kill, only her right hand was still stained with the berry juice. Shock grasped her insides, but Rose kept her smile on. Maybe if she didn't notice, he wouldn't notice?

Aracula's eyes widened in shock, icicles sliced her chest as she realized he knew, but then he just said, "You cut y-yourself. For…"

Rose played along, wincing to show her pain, which wasn't too hard, for she really was in pain, and said, "Go on…drink up. Water is life. And only the better person gets to live…I'm…the thing is…"

Aracula kept his brown eyed gaze widened in shock as he twisted the top off, lifting the bottle to his lips with trembling fingers, and whispered, "What?" before drinking it.

Rose felt like laughing at his stupidity.

She gave it a few more seconds, to make sure he actually drink enough of the water to kill him, then dropped her knife and stood up straighter, she dropped the façade in an instant, and showed her real smile. Her smile of victory, and cunning that she inherited from her grandfather. She would be leaving the arena soon, going back to the capitol, she didn't need to imagine that far away thought anymore – it was in her grasp.

"You know the thing I said I'd never told anyone?" Rose said casually, bringing her hand to her clothes where she scrubbed the juice off, and revealed a perfectly non-cut hand. At the same time, Aracula started choking.

"About your father? I was the killer."

She smiled very nicely as she watched him die, his eyes widened more than they had ever before, and his breath leave his body in chokes. Give it five seconds more and…

"Oh, and before you depart the same way as darling Aaron Summers had, one more thing –"

She leaned in as she said this, "It was from President Snow."

Aaron collapsed and the cannon boomed.

At the same time, the loss of blood and dizziness took Rose, and just as the world spun, the ground met her back. A second later the arena's forcefield faded and she caught a glimpse of the real world – where _t'is the holiday _season; a million tiny white specks silhouetted against the azure blue sky fell towards her body, and engulfed the winning tribute of the last and final Hunger Games in a sea of snowflakes.

[line break]

It was winter again.

Marble grey clouds laced the icy blue sky, the ground forever a pathway of rain, all warmth leeched out of the air and replaced by biting chill. Winter in Panem just like it always was.

Except time had passed. After Rose won the Games, the districts took over. They swarmed the capitol and broke the barriers between the other districts. Districts were allowed to trade and banter amongst themselves, the capitol was home to residents from all Districts, and all the remaining capitolians were allowed to roam free under the new, more peaceful government. But they had been stripped of their previous privileges, and expected to find jobs of their own. It was really, the first and second generations of the previous capitolians that suffered the most after the rebellion, after that they either merged with the District people or lived a common, ordinary, life, not missing what they never had.

After the Games they paraded Rose around, District to District; tremendously replaying the 76th Hunger Games, showing off the murders on live television until Rose thought she would be sick. She understood, that she was their revenge, and in a way; all the horrors the capitol brought on them, would be repented through their treatment of her. She was sold for prostitution _how many times_? She lost count.

But as she grew older, they more or less left her alone, and at age seven-six – the same number as her Hunger Games, they almost ignored her completely. Just running by her house in the capitol's Victor Village (how ironic as they would only ever be one victor) twice a month to check whether she had died or not, afterall; at seventy-six she _was_ getting on a bit.

Rose wondered through the empty house alone. After she won her Games, she found out her parents were killed, every relative no matter how distant was wiped out.

And they built her home with the graves in the backyard.

She never took on a husband or significant order, never had any children; the place was all hollow and empty.

The freezing breeze brushed past her face as she pushed open the sliding door, stepping into the chilling grounds of her back garden. She used to hate the graves, but now, she had more or less come to peace with them – even liked them sometimes.

She wondered over to her grandfather's grave, the childhood term _Grandpa Snow_ that she used to call him with vigour and admiration in her eyes seemed an eternity ago.

Her fingers brushed against the leafy plant beside the block of grey stone, yes, it was a _rose_ bush.

She picked one, a delicate flower of frosted white petals; stem bulging with thorns, and placed it upon her grave, reminiscing in the moments, _her first manipulation lesson with Grandpa Snow, her first murder, her first winter…_

Something draft and cold touched her forehead, at first she thought it was death's fleeting claws, come to get her, but it turned out only to be a snowflake. The first winter snowfall of Panem, Rose thought, looking up and seeing the pin pricks of silvery white, falling amongst the marble clouds and lacing the world; a world that used to be her own. And since everything good that had happened to her (pleasing Grandpa Rose, surviving the last Hunger Games) happened on the first snowfall of winter, for this fleeting moment –

- with the icy snowflakes in her hair and skin; the crisp breeze what came with winter dancing amongst the ground; sky streaked with blue, white and grey of the oncoming snowfall, and a rose that just left her hand and crunched amongst the icicles of her grandfather's grave, a token of thanks, –

- the world was hers again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I originally wrote this for a collab challenge, however the collaborated piece was never published because some people never handed in their parts. I decided to publish this as a stand-alone story instead. I hope you enjoyed and I would love it if you dropped off a review as well!**

**P.S. My penname is not related to the Rose in this story at all xD I just thought Rose was a suitable name for President Snow's granddaughter considering ... y'know ... his _fondness_ for them. **


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